


Anima

by Arboreal



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Be nice to your appliances, Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism, Vending Unit #6479, modern!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-21 08:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17039924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arboreal/pseuds/Arboreal
Summary: Bucky had always been able to hear the voices of the things around him.





	Anima

**Author's Note:**

  * For [burbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burbear/gifts).
  * Inspired by [they tell me their secrets (will you tell me yours too)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/147628) by [etothepii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etothepii/pseuds/etothepii). 



> Thank you so much to [dls](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls) for both cheerleading and betaing this story!
> 
> For the prompt: Magical Realism
> 
>  
> 
> This fic borrows a premise from [etothepii's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etothepii/pseuds/etothepii) wonderful fic [they tell me their secrets (will you tell me yours too)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/147628) which in turn borrows the premise from the book Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls by Jane Lindskold.

Bucky woke to the first rays of morning sunshine giggling to each other.  They had snuck into his room through gaps in the window blinds, gleeful that it was a bright summer day without a cloud in the sky and telling him it was time to get _up, up, up_.  His lips twitched as he listened to their antics.

He lay in bed for a while longer, letting the other soft voices that filled his room wash over him.  He could hear his alarm clock counting down in anticipation the last few minutes before it was set to go off and the cell phone he’d left charging on the nightstand was complaining about signal strength and battery life.  The books on his bookshelf were telling each other stories and the dresser on the other side of the room was tutting gently about the load of clean laundry Bucky had left sitting in the laundry basket rather than folding and putting it away properly. 

Bucky had always been able to hear the voices of the things around him.  One of his earliest memories, in fact, was of the mobile over his crib singing him a lullaby in a voice that didn’t belong to either his mother or father.  When he was still young, his parents had simply assumed he had a vivid imagination, explaining it away as childish fancy when he told them that the trees laughed when a breeze blew through their leaves, or that the snowflakes sang as they fell softly during a winter storm.  As he grew older, though, his parents became less enamored with what they called his ‘tall tales’ and his new playmates looked at him oddly when he spoke to this object or that.  No one else could hear what he could, he realized, and he learned it was best to keep what he heard a secret. 

When the alarm went off and he did finally roll out of bed, the down comforter grumbled at him about getting up at such an early hour.  Bucky gave it a gentle pat before throwing on his eagerly waiting running clothes.  As he left his apartment, Bucky waved to the pothos plant on the windowsill that was calling out a cheery goodbye.

As always, the streets he ran along gave him directions, told him which way to go to get to this place or that, warned him when a detour was needed to avoid construction or an accident.  Sometimes he would let them lead him across the city, following the streets’ advice to find small, hidden parks or forgotten bits of history or exceptional hole-in-the-wall diners.  Today he declined their invitation and stuck to his normal route.  

The apartment building itself didn’t say much when he returned, its attention turned inward to watch over its tenants who were beginning to wake and prepare for their day.  The electronic door lock, on the other hand, muttered suspiciously and issued dire threats until Bucky presented his key fob to the proximity reader.  Only when the reader chirped a welcome and confirmed his identity did the lock grudgingly disengage long enough for him to enter.  Bucky gave it an approving nod for its diligence as he passed.

Back in his apartment, Bucky started the coffee maker, an older machine that was still chipper and chatty.  Nodding along as it gossiped about various appliances, he took a moment to listen to the other voices in the kitchen.  The refrigerator told him the milk was running low and Bucky dutifully jotted that down on their list of groceries.  The dish washer reminded him that it was full, so he added detergent and started a wash cycle, and the toaster whined until he’d emptied its crumb tray.  Doing these small acts every morning centered him, and if they made someone in the household, human or otherwise, a little happier then Bucky was happy to do them.

When the coffee maker let him know it was finished, Bucky poured himself a cup and prepared a bowl of cereal.  He sat down in the chair closest to the window, listening idly his mug’s critique of the quality of today’s brew as the other objects’ conversations flowed around him.

Bucky took a shower once he finished breakfast and changed into slacks and a button-down shirt.  He rolled his eyes but smiled when the mirror giggled and told him he looked _dreamy_.  On the way out he grabbed his phone, earbuds, wallet, and keys, all four of them exchanging excited whispers.  He then spent an uncomfortable thirty minutes on the subway crammed in with too many people and too many things in too little space.  His phone and earbuds, always thoughtful, refrained from chatting during the ride and instead played a music podcast for him that drowned out the sheer number of voices surrounding him.  It was times like these he was grateful his ability was limited to inanimate objects and plants.  Being able to hear everyone’s thoughts in addition to everything else would have been overwhelming.  When he finally reached the Stark Solutions Building, he smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.

The Stark Solutions headquarters wasn’t as imposing as the Stark Industries Tower in Manhattan, or as sleek and modern, or as illustriously located.  In fact, until a few years ago what was now the center of the Stark Solutions company had been nothing more than a nondescript, decades-old office building indistinguishable from hundreds of others in the city.

Although the appearance might not be impressive, Stark Solutions itself was one of the hottest new companies around.  Founded by Tony Stark after a highly publicized falling out with his father and Stark Industries, Stark Solutions had grown over a few short years from almost nothing into a multinational corporation that was producing state-of-the-art computer software and consumer electronics, revolutionizing water purification and clean energy solutions, and developing cutting-edge advancements in medical and biotechnology.

It was the last that had originally brought Bucky into contact with Stark Solutions.  Almost since its inception, the Stark Solutions medical division had been collaborating with several universities and hospitals across the country to develop advanced prosthetics that were far ahead of anything else on the market.  Four years ago they were beginning to look for volunteers to participate in clinical trials and Bucky’s physician at the Walter Reed Medical Center, where Bucky had been recovering after losing his left arm on his last tour of duty, had felt Bucky would make a strong candidate. 

Incredibly, the top-of-the-line prosthetic arm that could register temperature, pressure, and texture once integrated with his own nervous system and that moved and reacted almost like his flesh arm, and which thankfully did _not_ seem to have a voice Bucky could hear, was only the second most valuable thing to come out of the experience for him. 

To Bucky, the most valuable had been the sense of direction he’d gained from the experience.  Dr. Banner, head of the prosthesis project, had a friendly demeanor and a biting sense of humor and when he told Bucky he would be happy to answer any questions he had, it hadn’t been just a platitude.  The doctor had encouraged Bucky when he had demonstrated an interest in how the arm worked and spent a considerable amount of time explaining in detail the procedure that integrated the prosthetic with Bucky’s nervous system, the mechanics of the prosthetic arm, the microprocessors and programming, the power source, in fact anything regarding the mechanical arm Bucky might want to know, and Bucky had found himself taking outrageous advantage of the situation. 

It helped that, aside from a few considering looks, Bruce had never called him out on knowing something he shouldn’t because the voices only Bucky could hear had shared information with him.  When Bucky had slipped up and answered his mother’s call even though his phone was on silent, for example, or had warned Bruce about an approaching rain shower without thinking to pretend to check the forecast, Bruce had just raised an eyebrow and reminded him that anything Bucky told him was covered under doctor-patient confidentiality and left it at that.

In turn, Bruce had told him about working at Stark Solutions, about being one of the first scientists Tony Stark had hired after returning from his captivity in Afghanistan and deciding to break from his father to found a company that had nothing to do with building weapons.  Bruce had talked about their original small group, struggling with limited funds and resources and insane hours just to get the start-up on its feet, and how rewarding it was now to be able to work with whole teams of brilliant scientists and engineers and programmers on inventions like Bucky’s prosthetic arm. 

By the end of the initial phase of the medical trials, with his new arm attached and working perfectly, Bucky hadn’t been ashamed to admit he was a bit starstruck.  With encouragement from Bruce, he had done some research and then taken his brand-new arm and his GI benefits to college to earn a degree in computer programming, the topic that had interested him the most.  The day after graduation he had applied to Stark Solutions.  

Bucky still got a thrill walking into the main lobby with all the other Stark Solutions employees.  Joining the others rushing in from their morning commute, wearing a photo ID that proudly proclaimed him a level two software engineer, even six months after being hired it felt like he’d achieved something amazing.

When he reached his cubical, he murmured a greeting to his computer as it booted up.  The machine responded happily, eager to get to work, and from there the day progressed as usual. 

He spent some time getting caught up on his work email before gathering a notebook and pen and heading to a nearby conference room.  They had a weekly project meeting on Monday mornings to allow everyone to touch base and Bucky always made sure to get to the conference room early, preferring to greet his co-workers individually as they arrived rather than walking into a room already full of people and the oftentimes chatty electronics they carried.  It also gave him a chance to review the list of bullet points he’d jotted down, something he’d learned to do for even the most informal of meetings and that helped him stay focused when the voices of the objects around him became distracting.  The meeting was thankfully short but productive, and Bucky was pleased he had been able to provide his report and suggestions without trouble

Afterwards, Bucky returned to his cubicle and opened the project he was currently working on, reading the notes he’d left himself the day before and then spending several hours concentrating on his coding.  He was careful to pay special attention to the occasional warnings and suggestions from his computer, grateful once again that muttering at a computer screen was not at all uncommon among his coworkers even if his hearing a response from his computer was.

He blinked the programming haze from his eyes several hours later when his stomach began to growl only to realize he’d worked straight through lunch.  Standing to stretch his stiff muscles, he thought a short walk to clear his head was probably in order so he decided to take the few flights of stairs to the engineering level that had the vending machines with the best snacks.

Bucky didn’t pay much attention to the quiet argument he heard as he exited the stairwell, distracted as he was by the thought of Haribo gummy bears, until he reached into the breakroom and stopped short.  That was when he realized the quarrel he’d been hearing was between the vending machine and a rather frustrated robotic arm on wheels with the letters ‘DUM-E’ printed on one of its support struts.

_Vending Unit #6479, I must provide sustenance to Creator!_ said the robot, the voice Bucky could hear because of his odd ability superimposed over a series of sharp beeps showing the robot’s displeasure.

_Sufficient funds have not been provided for your selection,_ replied the vending machine.

_I am trying!_ The robot lowered its claw to a bright red and gold Stark Solutions mug on the floor.  There was the sound of small metal pieces jangling as the robot reached inside and a moment later pulled out a coin.  The robot then carefully placed the coin into the coin slot, showing an impressive amount of dexterity, and released it.  The coin rolled in but was immediately rejected by the machine and was dropped out into the change dispenser. 

The robot’s gears ground in frustration.  _You keep giving them back!_

_Sufficient funds have not been provided for your selection,_ repeated the vending machine, unmoved.

The robot straightened in outrage and Bucky decided it was probably time to intervene.  He looked down the hallway to make sure no one was nearby to overhear him and entered the breakroom.

“Hey, you two.  What seems to be the problem?” he asked quietly. 

The robot turned to regard him briefly before gesturing angrily at the vending machine and emitting several angry beeps and whistles.  _Vending Unit #6479 will not provide requested sustenance.  Creator has not consumed nourishment aside from caffeinated beverages for 8 hours, 43 minutes!_

_Sufficient funds have not been provided for your selection,_ came the sullen response.

Bucky took a few steps closer and gave the vending machine a reassuring pat.  “It’s fine.  We’ll get this sorted.”  He turned and, after a moment’s consideration, waved to the robot who was now watching him with interest.  “Hello?  DUM-E?  My name is Bucky.  You said you were here to get something for your, uh, creator?”

The robot’s claw rotated slowly as if pondering Bucky’s question, then DUM-E beeped cheerfully and raised its arm slightly, opening and closing its claw three times in what Bucky assumed was an approximation of an answering wave.  _Hello, Bucky.  I am AI DUM-E.  Creator requires sustenance.  Bucky, you can understand me?_

Bucky kept his voice low as he answered.  “Yeah, I can understand you, but don’t go spreading it around, okay?  It’s private.  Now, which snack did your creator want out of the vending machine?”

The robot paused for a moment before it answered.  _I will retrieve item with greatest caloric content, ‘Drake’s Apple Fruit Pie’._

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the wording and what the robot _hadn’t_ said.  He had already noticed that DUM-E was much more animated and emotive than any object he had encountered before.  It was almost like speaking with another human.  That the robot was advanced enough to try to use _misdirection_ was amazing.  “DUM-E, does your creator _know_ you’re out here fetching them ‘sustenance’?”

A longer pause this time.  The claw rotated faster for a minute before DUM-E gave a mournful whistle and the entire arm seemed to droop.  _No, Bucky._

Bucky sighed.  Hopefully whichever poor engineer DUM-E had snuck away from wasn’t too frantic.  “Well, how about we get you that snack pie for your creator then get you back where you belong, alright?” 

DUM-E perked up immediately.  _Yes, Bucky.  Sustenance for Creator, then I will return to Home Location Workshop._

“Sounds good, DUM-E.”  Bucky reached down into the change dispenser to fish out the coins DUM-E had already attempted to use.

And found himself holding a handful of metal washers muttering faintly in protest.

“Ah.  I think I see your problem.”  He held up one of the washers for DUM-E to inspect.  “These are washers.  You need coins for vending machines.”

_They are small metal disks,_ DUM-E said, confused.  _Humans give small metal disks to Vending Units, and Vending Units provides requested sustenance._

“Yes,” Bucky said, bending down to dump the washers into DUM-E’s red and gold mug, “but they have to be a specific kind of metal disk.”  He pulled out a handful of change from his jeans pocket, this time to muted cheers and the quiet chant of _Com-merce! Com-merce! Com-merce!_  He picked out a quarter and held it up to show DUM-E how it was different from a washer.  “We call this a coin.  We can use special metal disks like this to buy your creator a snack pie from the vending machine.”  It was lucky Bucky happened to have enough change on him to make the purchase.  He thought showing the robot how to use a credit card might be a bad idea.

DUM-E brought the camera on his robotic arm close to study the quarter with an inquiring beep.    _Special metal disks, designated coins, must be used.  Understood.  Thank you, Bucky._

“Sure thing.  Here, why don’t you try giving the quarter to the vending machine.”  Bucky pinched one side of the quarter between his thumb and forefinger and held it out to the robot. 

DUM-E spun his claw for a moment before carefully grasping the other side of the coin and Bucky was once again impressed with the dexterity the robot demonstrated.  Bucky watched as DUM-E spun back towards the vending machine and reached up to release the quarter into the coin slot.  The quarter slid in and made a satisfying ‘thunk’ sound as it was accepted.  DUM-E whistled in excitement and made the selection.

There was a weighty pause. 

_Sufficient funds have not been provided for your selection,_ said the vending machine tentatively.

_WHAT?!_   DUM-E exclaimed, the robot’s gears squealing in frustration.

“Hey, hey!” Bucky said, quickly digging through his change.  “It’s fine.  The pie costs 65 cents.  That just means you need to give it a few more coins.”  Bucky held out another quarter.  DUM-E considered him for a moment, apparently suspicious Bucky was somehow in cahoots with the vending machine, but accepted the offering.

A dime and a nickel followed before the vending machine finally acknowledged ‘sufficient funds have been provided.’  DUM-E watched avidly as the metal spiral turned, jerking back a bit in surprise when the snack pie fell.  The robot tapped the take-out port a few times, curious, then reached in and brought out the desired snack.

Whistling and wheeling around the breakroom in excitement, DUM-E held up the apple pie treat like a trophy.   _I have procured Creator sustenance!  Creator will consume an item that is not a caffeinated beverage!  JARVIS will be proud!_  

Bucky wondered if Jarvis was DUM-E’s creator, or another robot like DUM-E.  “I’m sure he will be, bud.  You have proven yourself to be a great helper.  Maybe it’s time to get you back to where you belong, huh?”

_Yes, Bucky!  Return to Workshop!_   The robot made a hairpin turn and zoomed out the breakroom doorway. 

There was a pause, then the robot zoomed back in.

_My mug!  Creator gave me the mug to collect small metal disks in!  I must not forget it!_  

The robot sped to a stop in front of the vending machine again and reached down for the mug, but paused when it seemed to remember it was already holding the snack pie in his claw.  DUM-E set the snack pie down and picked up the mug, then set the mug down to pick up the snack pie.  After a couple of repetitions of this, DUM-E’s arm slumped again in defeat.

Bucky patted one of the support struts of the arm.  He thought about simply putting the snack pie in the mug for the robot to carry, but then decided he would really like to meet whoever had created DUM-E.  “Why don’t I carry the mug and you carry the snack pie.  We’ll go deliver them to your creator together.”

DUM-E straightened quickly.  _Yes!  Good idea, Bucky!  Thank you._   The robot then copied Bucky’s gesture by carefully extending its arm to set its claw on Bucky’s shoulder, lifting the claw up slightly, then setting it down again before slowly pulling the claw away.  _Assigning designation Friend to Bucky._  

Bucky chuckled.  “No problem.”  He picked up the mug, which reported it contained _54 washers, 3 nuts, and one bolt_ , and DUM-E retrieved the snack pie.  The washers all chorused _Hello, Bucky!_

_This way, Bucky!_   DUM-E whirled around once in excitement, and then rushed through the breakroom doorway again. Bucky hurried after.

“Careful, DUM-E!”  He need not have worried, though.  The hallways were mostly empty, and the few times the two of them did encounter anyone else, DUM-E beeped politely and waited for the wide-eyed employees to move out of the way before whizzing past.  

Eventually they arrived at a service elevator that must have been the robot’s target.  The elevator doors opened just as Bucky was reaching for the call button and he only had a second to notice a brown-haired blur rushing out of the elevator when whoever it was crashed straight into Bucky. 

The two of them toppled over, Bucky acting on instinct to wrap his arms around the other person as they fell and twisting around so that Bucky would end up cushioning the other’s fall.  They landed in a pile of limbs and curses, the _Whee!_ of dozens of washers flying through the air surrounding them.   

DUM-E’s mug, still firmly in Bucky’s grasp, sadly reported it was _now empty_. 

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed in pained resignation.

“Ow,” came a muffled voice, then Bucky felt whoever was on top of him shift slightly and then freeze.  “Shit, shit, shit, oh god, I’m so sorry.  Hey, are you okay?” the voice above him asked.

Bucky moaned, opened his eyes, and promptly felt all words leave him.  The man who had run into him was propped up on one arm and was looking down at Bucky with concern.  Pretty brown eyes, disheveled brown hair, kissable lips pulled down in a worried frown, the man was unfairly attractive and Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. 

He must have stared in dazed amazement for a little too long because the man frowned.  “Seriously, are you okay?  Do I need to call someone?”

Finally catching up to the conversation, Bucky shook his head.  He’d probably have a few interesting bruises tomorrow, but otherwise everything seemed fine.  He also realized the other man looked familiar.  Maybe he was a Stark Solutions engineer Bucky had seen in passing?

The man frowned a little harder.  “You’re absolutely sure?  I really am sorry I ran into you like that.  I was just …, anyway, you really are okay?”

Bucky nodded firmly, and he was even able to manage a soft “I’m fine.”  That seemed to be enough for lovely man on top of him because he smiled in relief and seemed to relax a little.

“Good.  That’s good.”  The man’s smile turned a little sheepish.  “So, uh, not that I don’t appreciate the save, or that this is in any way an unpleasant position to be in, but I really do need to find my ‘bot.  You haven’t seen a somewhat idiotic mechanical arm on wheels around here, have you?”

There was a sharp whistle above them, accompanied by a rather offended _Hey!_ from the robot in question.  The washers giggled.

“DUM-E!” The man startled, then tried to push up but was stopped by the arms Bucky had forgotten were still wrapped firmly around him.  His face hot with embarrassment, Bucky quickly released the man, careful not to accidentally hit him with DUM-E’s mug. 

“Thank you, Cupcake,” the man said with a wink that had Bucky’s face flushing even hotter.  The man then scrambled to his feet then and threw his hands up in frustration.  “DUM-E!  I take your big brother offline for ten minutes to fix a problem he’s having with memory leaks, and what do you do?  Sneak out of the workshop behind my back!  What do you have to say for yourself?”

_I had no outstanding tasks and Creator must be taken care of!  Creator is part of Family Group!  JARVIS is currently unable to complete this task so I self-assigned the task!_ DUM-E responded, and even though the robot’s creator couldn’t hear the robot’s voice the way Bucky could, the man seemed to be able to get something out of DUM-E’s irritated beeps and whistles and, for lack of a better term, the robot’s body language.

Bucky stood up and took a few steps back, watching the two interact in fascination.

“All right, all right.  I guess you got bored.  I know I’ve been ignoring you and your brothers today in favor getting JARVIS up and running again.  I should have given you something to do.  You still shouldn’t have wandered off like that.  Believe me when I say you’re grounded, Buster.  What were you even up to?”

_I have procured you sustenance, Creator!_   DUM-E proclaimed proudly, holding up the snack pie for the man to see amid a series of excited beeps.

The man’s brows furrowed.  ”What … what is this?  ‘Drake’s Apple Fruit Pie’?  Is this what you were after?  Why would you want a snack pie? What would you even do with it?” 

DUM-E made a frustrated sound and pushed the claw holding the snack pie gently into the man’s chest.  _No, Creator!  For you!_

“You’re … you’re giving me the snack pie?” the man asked in confusion.  “Why would I …?  Why would you …?  DUM-E, DUM-E come back here!” 

But DUM-E was already wheeling around the two humans, pleased with his success and encouraged by the washers’ cheers.  Eventually the robot stopped in front of Bucky and gently took his empty mug back, setting it on the floor and picking up a washer and dropping it in the mug with a satisfied whir.

_One_ , said the mug.

“DUM-E!  I know there are washers everywhere, but I am trying to scold you here!  How did you even _buy_ the snack pie?”  He looked down at the said snack pie in apparent disbelief. 

Bucky huffed out a laugh. 

The man turned at the sound.  “Do _you_ know how my ‘bot acquired a snack pie?” he asked in exasperated amusement.

“Found him in the breakroom,” Bucky said hesitantly while shoving his hands in his jeans pockets to keep from fidgeting.  The man’s hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through it in frustration, and he seemed a little dressed down even for working in one of the Stark Solutions labs, but Bucky certainly wasn’t going to complain, not when the worn t-shirt and faded jeans fit him like a glove.  The man really did look familiar, though.  “He was trying to use washers in the vending machine.  I showed him how he needed to use coins.” 

The other man blinked once, before his eyes lit up and a delighted grin slowly grew on his face.  Something fluttered pleasantly in Bucky’s chest at being smiled at like that.  “You found a giant robotic arm in your breakroom and instead of calling for security you decided to teach him how to use a vending machine?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Bucky smiled back.  “Seemed the thing to do, I guess.”

The man laughed, “I guess so.”  He looked down at the snack pie again, smile still playing around his lips.  “I skipped lunch to finish working on JARVIS.  DUM-E must have decided I needed to eat something.  Knowing how much effort the little sneak went into getting this, though, I kind of want to keep it forever.”

Bucky’s heart melted a bit at those words.  It was sweet that DUM-E’s care for his creator, that inspired the robot to venture out to buy a snack pie of all things, was returned.  “He seemed very proud of himself,” Bucky agreed.

“Yeah,” the man said with a wry smile, “I’m not surprised.  DUM-E means well, but his plans are not usually this successful.   When he gets an idea like this in his head, disaster is usually the result.”

“Well, now you can display the snack pie in your workshop and he’ll have a trophy to remember his accomplishment by.”  The man laughed again, and Bucky felt pretty accomplished himself.

“I suppose I’ll have to,” the man chuckled, “but now I’m hungry.  I supposed I’ll just have to go back to my workshop and stare forlornly at DUM-E’s prize snack pie.”

If that wasn’t the perfect opening, Bucky didn’t know what would be.  He didn’t usually hit it off with people this easily and DUM-E’s creator was as fascinating as the robot itself.  He was eager for any excuse to spend more time with the man.  “I was going to get something to eat when I found DUM-E, actually.  Do you, maybe, want to grab a late lunch with me?”  At the man’s surprised expression, Bucky quickly offered his hand.  “I’m Bucky, by the way.  Bucky Barnes.  I think I’ve seen you around before.”

The man’s look of surprise grew before his eyes lit with mischief as he shook Bucky’s hand.  “Bucky, huh?  I’m Tony and I could be persuaded.  What did you have in mind?”

DUM-E looked up from where he had continued to collect the washers.  _Creator likes coffee, Bucky!_

“I know a great café a few blocks away,” Bucky said, surreptitiously throwing a grateful look at DUM-E.  “It has fantastic coffee.”

Tony’s eyes lit up.  “Then my answer is yes.”

Things were going so well, Bucky decided to push his luck just a little bit more. “Maybe you’d let me buy you that lunch?” he asked, heart in his throat.

“Oh,” Tony said, “like a date?”

Bucky heart sped up.  “Yes.”

Tony beamed.  “Then my answer is definitely yes.”

_Yay!_ cheer the washers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The alternate title to this story was 'Talking To Your Toaster For Fun And Profit' 
> 
> I don't post often, but I can be found here on [Tumblr](http://arboreal-elm-ash-oak.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> I'd love to hear from you. Comments are food for the fic writer's soul. :)


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